


Right Place, Right Time

by xerxesun



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Business Man Zayn Malik, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Harry Has Issues, Inspired by Friends (TV), Lawyer Harry Styles, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, One Shot, Post-Break Up, Short One Shot, Zayn has commitment issues, harry and zayn used to date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 09:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30019530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xerxesun/pseuds/xerxesun
Summary: Sometimes, late isn't "too late". Zayn just hopes it is true this time...orZayn and Harry have some hiccups in their relationship that can either result in a disaster or a sweet journey.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Character(s), Zayn Malik/Harry Styles
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Right Place, Right Time

**Author's Note:**

> This piece of work is inspired by Friends (TV show) episode 24, season 9. Enjoy x

———

**_August 3rd, 2018,  
_ ** **_London, England_ **

“Hello, you’ve reached Zayn Malik. You know the deal—you leave your name and your number (or just your name if you think I have your number)—and I’ll call you back. I guess. Maybe I’ll text you though. Or if it’s urgent, just call me some other time because I might forget to call you back later. Anyways, go ahead.”

“Oh, hey Zayn. It’s, um, Miranda—Harry’s friend. I just called to say… I know it’s been a couple of months since your break up but there’s something you should know. Oliver. You know him, right? He’s going to propose to Harry and I know that you said you were done for good but… He’s still in love with you—I know it because he said it himself. And I  _ know _ you love him too so get over your stupid issues and come stop this. He’s… He’s going to say yes because he’s afraid to spend the rest of his life alone and I… I just can’t let him go through with it! So… They’re in Nottingham, staying at Hilton Nottingham Hotel. So… Do what you want with this information. Call me if you want to. Or don’t. Okay. Bye.”

———

**_April 13th, 2017,  
_ ** **_New York, U.S.A._ **

“Hello,” Zayn says, leaning on the counter, smiling at the girl drinking her Martini. “I would offer you a drink but you already have that. So how about I buy you a drink?” 

The girl looks up, batting her eyelashes, shaking his head. “I appreciate the offer,” she says with a smile, running her fingers up Zayn’s arms, making him smirk. “But I am waiting for a date.”

“Oh,” is the first thing Zayn says before smiling awkwardly and looking at the girl’s hand that is still resting on his arm. “Your date must have a lousy way of showing up as you  _ are _ alone in the bar, your hand on another man.” Zayn smirk and the quirk to his eyebrow doesn’t leave his expression. “Zayn Malik,” he says, offering his hand.

The girl laughs, taking Zayn’s hand. “Well, I’m Rachel—Rachel Miller.” 

“Rachel Miller,” Zayn tastes the words in his mouth, raising an eyebrow.  _ Typical white name _ , Zayn thinks but keeps eye contact nonetheless. 

Zayn smirks, inching closer to the girl, their breaths mixing.  _ She smells like bad wine _ , is the first thing Zayn thinks about her, not so wanting to kiss her anymore. Before he can, a distraction—a very welcomed one—interrupts them, making Rachel jump up and away.

“Rachel, honey, hello, I’m sorry I’m late—” a male voice says, making both their heads turn towards the source. 

The man behind Zayn, facing Rachel is tall—taller than Zayn, probably but he won’t know until he stands up. He’s got curly hair—cut awfully short which makes it almost straight—and green eyes.  _ The most interesting part about him is his eyes _ , Zayn concludes. His eyes are confused, widened and his eyebrows are knitted. “Hello? Who is this… gentleman?”

“Zayn Malik,” Zayn stands up with a challenging smile, offering his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mister…?”

“Harry Styles?” he says with a more confused expression. Zayn chuckles slightly, biting inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. He seems young—younger than Zayn by years probably. Especially when he looks this confused—and lost. Zayn almost thinks it’s cute—and he’s definitely cuter than Rachel. His British accent sends a gust of nostalgia down Zayn’s belly, making him smile. 

“Harry, sweetheart, it’s not what it looks like,” the girl starts, standing up, fixing her fancy dress before walking towards Harry and putting her delicate hand on his chest. He’s looking so lost that he doesn’t even notice it, not breaking eye contact with Zayn. “Mister Malik just joined me since we were both alone and—”

Her voice blurs out as Zayn keeps staring at the new face he’s watching. Harry Styles. Green eyes, adorable confused face. Zayn smirks. “You look dashing,” Zayn says, quirking an eyebrow. “Fancy a drink, Mister… Styles?” 

“What?” the boy blurts out, his face flushed. “How— What— Why—” he stammers, getting redder and redder by second. Rachel has turned around with widened eyes and a hurt expression. Let her be hurt. The woman wears a hundred thousand dollar clothes but can’t afford a good cologne and some better wine at the Plaza. 

“Think about it,” Zayn says with a wink, walking towards him until they are standing next to each other. Zayn turns his head around to look at Harry who can’t seem to look away from Zayn and smirks, taking out his card. “This is my number,” he mutters in his ear with a smile, making sure his breath sends shivers down the boy’s back. “I can’t say I’ll be waiting for your call, but I will be glad to get it.”

He lingers there for a moment, making sure Harry can take in his full impact, breathing his scent in for good measure. He pulls away at last and he’s sure he has never seen anyone more surprised and confused in his entire life. Harry seems utterly lost. 

And with that, Zayn leaves Harry Styles behind. With green eyes and an adorable confused expression. 

———

**_June 3rd, 2017,  
_ ** **_Bradford, England_ **

“Do you, Doniya Malik, take Ella Wilson as your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

“Do you, Ella Wilson, take Doniya Malik as your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

“Then by the power that God has given me, I pronounce you wife and wife. You may kiss the bride,” the minister says. Doniya smiles brightly, pulling Ella in, putting her hands on her back and pulling her into their first kiss as a married couple. 

Doniya takes Ella’s hands and they almost run down the aisle as everyone cheers for them. Zayn almost rolls his eyes at the sight. Sure, he is happy that his sister is happy but marriage? He remembers almost a month ago, when Doniya called him and told him that Ella asked her to marry her when he flew—rushed—back to England to carry on his legacy.

Marriage is fucking stupid. A way to kill love, to imprison the passion a couple have for each other. A sure ticket to the hell of a relationship. Want a person to lose the will to live, become irritable and nag like a fucking old person, marry someone!

But he couldn’t. Doniya gave him all kinds of crap about how marriage is just a way to prove love, take the relationship to another level (“Thank you so much, I’m happy staying in my own level,” Zayn hissed) and that someday, Zayn would want to do it, too and even if he doesn’t, that won’t stop Doniya from marrying the woman she loves so he better stop being an irritable arse and be a supportive little brother. 

Zayn, of course, chose to be a bitter supportive little brother, nonetheless a brother present at his sister’s wedding. “Congratulations, man,” is the thing that makes Zayn finally stop constantly grimacing and turn to face the source. 

“Griff,” Zayn sighs, pushing his champagne glass to his chest until he takes it and rolls his eyes. “I’ll see you at their divorce party that I’ll be throwing!”

“Oh, shut up,” Griff says, smacking him on the head. 

“You know I’m right.”

“No, I don’t,” Griff hisses, taking Zayn’s hand, pulling him away so the crowd of happy people don’t get bummed out by the irrational creature named Zayn. “Again, for the hundredth time,” Griff hisses. “Just because some asshole screwed you over after you asked her to marry you doesn’t mean everyone turns into jerks.”

“She wasn’t just a jerk, Griff,” Zayn hisses bitterly. “You know what? I don’t wanna talk about it. I need a drink.” Griff rolls his eyes. “And a pretty someone to take to the hotel who is not my best friend rambling in my ear about my ex-fiancé.” 

“Oh, you think I’m pretty!”

“Fuck off,” Zayn says, showing him the finger as he walks out. He stops next to the bar. “A vodka, please. Straight.” 

“Are you?” a male voice says, making him look up only to see a face that isn’t all too unfamiliar but he can’t quite place where they have met. He has green eyes—marvellous green eyes, Zayn must admit, short hair that might as well be a little curly, he’s a bit taller than Zayn and looks young. 

“Excuse me?” Zayn deadpans but smirks nonetheless. A handsome man is asking him if he's straight next to a bar. He can’t exactly complain.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” the boy says, looking slightly disappointed, his face flushed red. His expensive Gucci suit does  _ not _ match with his awkward demeanour and a flushed face. “Well, okay, I—”

“Styles…?” Zayn says not quite sure but the confused expression fits. So do the eyes. “Something… Styles? Oh, oh, Harry Styles?”

“Yes!” the boy says a little more enthusiastically than Zayn expected, making him smile (he’s on the verge of laughter but the young Styles has been embarrassed enough for today). “I, um, I just appreciate the familiar face and um, I just wanted to say hi.” 

“You never called me,” Zayn says, getting his drink from the bartender and muttering a thank you before cocking an eyebrow with an amused look. Harry blushes more—Zayn didn’t think it was possible, but here they go—and sighs, licking his lips. “You blush a lot, you know?” 

“I— I don’t want to and I—”

“It’s okay,” Zayn says, feeling almost bad for teasing him constantly. “Anyways, I don’t think you are Doniya’s friend? Or else she’d show you to me by now.”

“No, no. I’m actually Ella’s cousin. What about you? Doniya’s cousin since you are both Maliks?”

“Her brother but close enough,” Zayn says with a smile and Harry blushes even more. “Also, sorry for hitting on your girlfriend  _ and _ you. Sometimes, I just can’t help it.”

“So you  _ were _ hitting on me!” Harry says with a lightened up face. “And also,  _ ex-girlfriend _ . Turns out, you weren’t the only one she was flirting with and with the other guy, it went so much more than flirting.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Zayn says but he isn’t really sorry, is he? She looked like a properly sexy, hot dumbarse. “And yes, I  _ was _ hitting on you. Thanks for noticing by the way.” Harry blushes even more and Zayn wants to kiss him. Just then and there and because there’s nothing stopping him and Harry looks adorably confused, he does. 

He leans in, pressing his lips to Harry’s. He feels like vanilla, smelling like mint. His lips are soft under Zayn’s, making his heart tug at him with excitement. Zayn stops long enough for Harry to be able to pull away but instead, Harry takes him in (turns out he is  _ not _ a shy kisser) and bites on his lips, opening his mouth before they even sink into the kiss. 

They pull away when they are both out of breath and good lord, Harry looks glorious.

“So how about I buy you that drink now?” Zayn says and Harry smiles.

_ He has dimples _ , Zayn notices for the first time and his heart misses a beat.

———

**_October 7th, 2017,  
_ ** **_London, England_ **

“Harry?” Zayn says with his eyes closed. “Come back to bed. It’s too early.” Zayn reaches out for Harry, pulling on his hand to put this down.

“But I gotta get home and get ready for this meeting. I have to go to court later,” Harry says but gravitates towards Zayn nonetheless, pulling on his hands until he’s sitting on the bed, his hands on Harry’s naked hips with sleepy eyes. 

“I don’t ever want you to leave,” Zayn whispers, leaning his head on the tattoos on Harry’s torso, pressing lips to his bare skin, making him suck in a breath, making a satisfying sound. “I don’t want you to leave my flat. Ever.” 

“I don’t want to either,” Harry whines, “but I have to. I gotta get ready for—”

“Harry?” 

“Yeah?”

“Move in with me,” Zayn says, not believing the words leaving his mouth.

“What?”

“You don’t wanna leave here, I don’t want you to leave. You might as well move your shit over here so you don’t ever have to leave. We do spend almost all our time here and you wanted to get a new place anyway, didn’t you?” 

“Zayn—”

“Don’t overthink this,” Zayn whispers, placing his index finger on Harry’s lips, pulling himself upon his knees to reach Harry so they’re looking into each other’s eyes at the same level. “I love you. You love me. What’s so hard about this?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’ve never been more certain,” Zayn says with a smile, kissing Harry. “Say… yes… say… yes… and I… will… kiss… you… like this… for the… rest of my life…” he says in between the kisses.

“Okay,” Harry says, smiling, showing off his dimples.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hm,” Harry says with a smile, pulling Zayn in for another kiss before giggling, leaning their foreheads against each other. “Yes. let’s do it,” Harry mutters, nuzzling Zayn’s nose.

———

**_October 30th, 2017,  
_ ** **_London, England_ **

Zayn loves it when Harry wears trousers that show off his perfectly shaped arse. That’s why he’s a huge fan of his Halloween costume. He has been waiting for this moment since the moment he asked Harry out on a first date, hoping they’d last until Halloween so he could see him in red tights of Superman. Red and blue is a good colour for Harry. 

“You look sexy,” Zayn says, not lifting his head from his iPad but smirking nonetheless. Harry smirks, sitting next to Zayn, running his finger down his spine, ruffling Zayn’s hair. 

“Shouldn’t you be dressed?” Harry asks, burying his head in the crooked of Zayn’s neck, kissing his naked skin. “We’re going to be late,” he says but doesn’t stop kissing him down his spine, pulling the blanket off Zayn’s naked body, kissing his arse cheeks, his hands grazing his thigh.

“I have to finish this,” Zayn says, rubbing his cheeks to his neck, his hands travelling to Harry’s head, pulling on his curls, earning a moan from Harry and a bite on the thigh. “Ouch,” he says with a smile, pressing the off button on his iPad. He’s done anyway—how can he not be done, when Harry is kissing her like that. “Fuck  _ that _ , let’s do this, huh?”

Harry pulls away with a mischievous smile, his eyes shining. “No, we’re going to be late,” Zayn smirks, grabbing Harry’s hand—his overly dressed in a tight costume hand—and whines. 

“Don’t you think it will be better if  _ you _ get undressed and we have some fun?”

“We will have fun at the party.”

“Harry,” Zayn whines, getting up on his knees, nuzzling Harry’s neck. “Take these clothes off,” he mumbles, letting go of the blanket to stand stark naked in front of Harry. His green eyes shine like a hungry cat before growling. “You know you want it,” Zayn says in a sing-song tone, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

“No,” Harry whines but his hands travel to his zipper nonetheless. Ten minutes later, his clothes are on the floor, Zayn’s hand all over his beautiful body. Zayn takes his time, not giving two flying fucks about how late they’re going to be. He traces Harry’s skin with his fingertips, his tongue intertwined with Harry’s. “Fuck,” Harry moans. Zayn smirks into his mouth before pulling away, Harry’s mouth open, yearning for more. He gravitates towards Zayn, willing to force his mouth back up but when Zayn’s mouth ends up on his cock, nibbling off it, he shut up, closing his eyes tight. “Zayn,” he almost begs, not exactly knowing what for. 

Zayn looks up at him, his golden eyes shining before taking Harry’s dick into his mouth, choking on it with tears pooling in his eyes but he’s fast to recover, riding Harry’s dick, his hands running up and down his thigh to his arse cheeks. 

“I’m going to come,” Harry moans but before he can release everything, he pulls away, forcing Harry on his knees and hands. 

“I’m gonna fuck you,” Zayn says, kissing his spine before his tongue finds its way to his arse hole, licking it before putting a finger and then a second one into it. He hisses Zayn’s name but it just makes Zayn enter the third finger, spinning up real fucking good. 

“Don’t fuck around,” he hisses. “Fuck me.” Zayn hums, placing his palm on his back, entering Harry, making him make sounds that are inhumane and beautiful. “Zayn… I’m so gonna come.”

“Do it,” Zayn orders, still halfway in Harry when his hand grabs Harry’s cock, releasing him when he pulls away and empties himself with a pop as well, both of them collapsing, Zayn’s head on Harry’s back, sighing.

They need a shower afterwards and it is fucking glorious when they’re late to the party. 

———

“Oh, look who’s here,” Miranda says. “Harry and the roomie.” Miranda is drunk but it makes Harry laugh and it’s the most beautiful fucking sound Zayn has ever heard. He sneaks his arm around Harry's waist. “Or should I say, groomie?” Zayn almost freezes, wanting to pull away but he doesn’t but it makes him even laugh harder and it makes Zayn’s heart ache. 

“So can I be the best man?” another friend—Zayn is so occupied to remember his name—asks, patting Harry on the back and Zayn keeps waiting for Harry to deny and tell them to come off it but he doesn’t. He just laughs more and more, making Zayn drown in his thoughts more and more.

———

“Zayn?” Harry asks, looking down at Zayn, sitting next to him besides the pool. “What is it?”

“What is what?” Zayn asks, hiding his head between his arms. He wants to go for a swim, to allow water to soothe him but he doesn’t know how to. It’s like he can do nothing to get out of his head. 

“Since we came back from the party,” Harry says, sitting next to him, pulling him in to force his head on his shoulder. “You have been awfully quiet. What is going on in that head of yours?”

“It’s just that,” Zayn stammers, locking his hands, pulling away from Harry to look him in the eyes. “All the jokes that you know, your friends made about a wedding and a marriage…”

Harry laughs again, making it harder and harder. “They were drunk and fucking around. None of them thinks that we’re going to get married any time soon, babe. Don’t worry about them, Z. I love you.” Zayn shakes his head. 

“It’s not what you think. I just… I don’t  _ want _ to get married. Ever.” 

“What?”

“Look, Haz, I love you. So much. But I just… I  _ hate _ weddings. I hate getting married and what marriages do to people’s relationships—the way they feel trapped and they start making up excuses and mistakes and it just… it ruins everything…”

“Zayn—”

“Look, I wanted to get married three years ago. To a beautiful girl that I  _ loved _ . I planned a memorable proposal—took her to Plaza, rented the whole place for a night, singers, dancers, whatever she liked. She said yes, we got engaged. Three months later, I found her in  _ my _ bed with another guy. And you know who that arsehole was? My assistant. I’m not saying that it will happen with you. I love you. More than I ever loved her. But it’s something I always associate marriage with that shit and I  _ can’t _ stop.”

“Zayn…”

“I’m sorry, Haz,” Zayn says in a squeaky, higher voice than his usual. “I just… I should’ve told you earlier. But I didn’t. And I understand if you don’t want to move in with me anymore or be with me anymore because what you want is different from me but—” he gets cut off when Harry presses his lips on Zayn’s. “Harry,” he sighs when they pull away. 

“I love you.”

———

**_14th November 2017,  
_ ** **_London, England_ **

  
  


There are unopened boxes all around them. Zayn smiles with pride, looking at Harry who is fidgeting with a box labelled  _ balls _ . “You keep your balls in there? I thought they were attached to your body,” Zayn teases but when Harry looks up, he isn’t flushed or playful. He’s lost. 

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Zayn frowns, moving closer to Harry, taking his hands. “What is wrong? Are you having second thoughts?” He wants— _ needs _ —Harry to reassure him that there are no second thoughts. That he’s just thinking about the fact that he might miss his apartment, after all, that’s why he’s lost in his thoughts.

“I…” Harry stammers, stares at his hands. “I am… thinking about what you said that night. About marriage. I mean… it will  _ never _ happen?”

“I’m sorry,” Zayn sighs. “I just don’t see it in myself to get married…”

“Zayn, look, I never wanted a proposal immediately. But… Since I was six and I went to my aunt’s wedding, I wanted to get married. I know I said I didn’t want to but I lied. I just… I thought I could—that I loved you more than I wanted a marriage and I do. I love you so damned much and I’ve never loved anyone like this… but… I wanted to know that there was a chance that we might get married one day… and you are telling me that it will never happen and it’s just…”

“You need time to think about it,” Zayn acknowledges and Harry nods. He stands up and walks away, leaving the apartment full of boxes.

———

**_17th November 2017,  
_ ** **_London, England_ **

Harry breaks up with him in tears and sweet words. Zayn doesn’t cry. Doesn’t try to stop him. Doesn’t tell him that he loves him. He just nods and lets him go.

———

**_2nd December 2017,  
_ ** **_New York, U.S.A._ **

He moves back.

There’s nothing else to keep him there. 

———

**_August 4th 2018,  
_ ** **_Nottingham, England_ **

Harry looks at his hand, fidgeting with all the rings on his hand as he drinks his wine, looking at Oliver who is eating the last bits of his stake. Harry feels like he has never been more nervous.  _ Why doesn’t he just say it and just stop messing around? _ He wonders over and over again. It feels like these minutes, hours are stretching into days and years, not passing. 

When Oliver’s finally done with his meal, he picks a handkerchief, cleaning his mouth, wiping his lips and looks at Harry. “You look so handsome,” he says, taking Harry’s hand into his. “So beautiful.” Harry flashes him a smile, rubbing his hand. 

“Thank you,” he says with a smile. 

“Harry, um,” Oliver starts, clearing his throat and Harry  _ knows _ it’s coming. Soon, he’ll take out a ring and ask Harry to be his husband and he’ll say yes to him. “I have known you for six months now and I… I just feel like I’ve known you for my entire life and I  _ know _ I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Whatever it takes so…”—he reaches into his pocket and takes out a box, opening it to show Harry a ring—“I… want to tell you that… If you say yes, you will make me the happiest man on earth and I promise before the world that I will take care of your heart. So… Harry Edward Styles, will you marry me?”

Harry feels dizzy, gasping in surprise. He knew it was coming and he exactly knew what he was going to say— _ yes _ —but now as he looks at Oliver, he isn’t so sure anymore and it scares the shit out of him. But then again, he stops… “Zayn!”

“It’s actually Oliver,” Oliver says, thinking that Harry has gotten the name wrong. (Of course, he knows about Harry’s ex-boyfriend who was supposedly the love of his life.)

“No, Zayn. he’s here,” Harry says, looking at the man standing in the entrance, looking around as if he’s looking for someone. 

“What?” Oliver says, turning to look at the man Harry is looking at. The man he’s been trying so hard to get out of his head for the past eight months and failed time and time again. “ _ That _ is Zayn?” he asks, his mouth hung open. Harry wants to say  _ I know, right?  _ Because damn, Zayn is so much more handsome than the last time he saw him.

“Yes.” 

Zayn finally sees Harry and walks to their table. He wonders what he wants. “Harry,” he says, when he gets to their table. 

“Zayn, what are you doing here? I—”

“Don’t marry him,” he says, throwing a glance at Oliver whose mouth is hung open. “Don’t do it. I know I don’t have a ring or anything but… but I want you to know that… These past months have been so damn hard and when Miranda called and told me that you were getting married to someone else, it felt like I was dying and… Harry, don’t marry him…”

“Zayn—”

“No,” Zayn interrupts him, kneeling in front of Harry, taking his hand. “Marry me. Harry, I wanna marry you. So marry me.”

Harry almost chokes on his own breath, Oliver too shocked to know what to say or even what the fuck is going on. But when Harry gains his voice, he only says one thing. “No.” 

“What?” Zayn asks, taken aback as Oliver grins. 

“Harry—” Zayn starts but Harry shakes his head, taking his hand with a smile. 

“Zayn. I never wanted a proposal from you. I never wanted you to go down on one knee and ask me to marry you when you are clearly not ready. I just wanted to know that there was a possibility of it happening but you said there wasn’t and I just knew in my stomach that I couldn’t do it to you or myself to go through with a relationship with an open ending…”

“May I interfere?” Oliver says with a hoarse voice but Zayn shoots him a look that makes him shut up.

“Excuse me, Oliver but Harry needs to hear this. Look, Haz, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to wake up next to you and come back home to you and go to sleep with you and have kids with you. I want you. So please. Don’t marry him. Be with me.

“Harry, I love you. I’ve missed you so much these past few months and I thought we were apart for a good reason but then I suddenly realized there is no reason good enough to keep me from spending the rest of my life with you… you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met. How could I let you go? And now… will you… be with me? Give me another chance?”

“I love you and this is all I’ve ever wanted—to know we’re heading somewhere. You know, that we had a future.”

“We can have any future you want…” Zayn mutters, reaching for Harry’s hand. Harry smiles, taking his hand, pressing a light kiss to his knuckle.

“I…” Oliver stammers. Harry looks up at Oliver who’s now standing with a regretful expression. “So… I think I’m going to take off…” he says, his voice drifting away.

“Oliver, I’m so… I’m so sorry. I just… I’m so sorry that I couldn’t…”

He nods. “It’s okay. But just so I know, if he hadn’t showed up, would you have said yes to my proposal?” Harry looks at him with a pained expression. 

“Yes, I think I might’ve. But that would’ve been wrong because…”

“Please. You don’t have to explain,” Oliver says, nodding. “So I guess this is it. Goodbye, Harry.” 

Harry only nods, looking at Oliver who is now walking away before looking at Zayn again who is smiling like he’s the happiest man on earth. “Is it okay if I hug you now?” Zayn asks, taking Harry’s hand to make him stand up. 

Harry nods, standing up but before he can envelop Zayn in a hug, Zayn presses his lips against his as Harry smiles into the kiss.

The best kiss of his life.

With Zayn.

The man he loves.

And somehow, he knows that everything is going to be okay. 


End file.
